


Intombi Yokufa

by TheUltimateFanGirl7



Series: Twisting Timelines [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Good Dark Side, Dark James Potter, Dark Lily Evans Potter, Dark Sirius Black, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Necromancer Lily Evans Potter, Prologue, Seer Sirius Black, i am an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24658309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUltimateFanGirl7/pseuds/TheUltimateFanGirl7
Summary: Death always was very found of his sister, Magic. So rather than let her die, he decides to meddle a bit.Lily knows she’s different. She knows this just as well as she that 2+2=4 and bananas are yellow and her older sister is named Petunia and was supposed to be the only child their parents were capable of having. She also knows this as well as she knows that a girl is supposed to make friends with other girls and maybe a boy or two: not skeletons she dug up and brought back to life.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Series: Twisting Timelines [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787140
Comments: 1
Kudos: 60





	Intombi Yokufa

**Author's Note:**

> Hey readers!
> 
> Sorry I didn’t fix this right away, but I’ve been busy the last couple days and this is the first chance I’ve had to do it. I just read through it and the amount of mistakes astonishes me. Apparently lack of sleep, writing on an iPad, and writing without proof reading till midnight is not a particularly good idea.  
> Yeah...  
> I fixed everything I noticed, but feel free to point out anything you see, after all: criticism is the root of improvement!
> 
> Chow for now ~TheUltimateFanGirl7
> 
> /italics/  
> [author’s interjection]

Alfred and Rosina Evans had always wanted a large family, so it was understandably devastating to learn after the complications during the birth of their daughter that they would never be able to have another child due to the damage done to Rosina’s womb. They were near inconsolable, but tried to be strong for their newborn baby: their darling Petunia. They talked about adoption, but eventually decided to focus on Petunia for the time being.

Three years later they were shocked and overjoyed to discover that Rosina was once again pregnant. The doctors were baffled, but she was indeed pregnant. She carried their second child full term and went into labor at midnight on the exact expected due-date. Exactly twenty four hours later a healthy baby girl whom they named Lily was born. Of course they still loved and doted on Petunia, but they maybe did favor Lily a touch: she was their little miracle. After Lily was born, they decided not to adopt, deciding to be happy with their two girls.

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Lily Evans had always known she was different. For example, her eyes. Everyone always cooed over them, telling her they were exactly like her mother’s. They were wrong. Rosina Potter had dark, grassy green eyes. Lily had bright, toxic colored orbs. Her hair the color of blood was also an anomaly. Grandpa Evans had strawberry-blonde hair and had mentioned once when they were marveling over her deep locks that he thought his great grandmother might have had hair a darker red like Lily’s. She was also incredibly smart. She was speaking in full sentences and completely potty trained by her first birthday. After two days of preschool, she was put in Petunia’s class - four years ahead of her own peers - so that she would be challenged by her school work. Her parents were so incredibly proud.

Then there were the things that weren’t as explainable and definitely more noticeable. When she was four years old, she loved to watch as the neighbor’s cat would chase after the song birds across the street. One day, the cat caught and killed one of the birds. Her scream had immediately drawn out people from their houses. Most had rolled their eyes and gone back inside, but Mr. Venns, the cat owner, had kneeled down next to her and gently reassured her, telling the young, distraught girl that this was a natural part of life. She had sniffled quietly and nodded while keeping tear-filled eyes glued to the corpse in her hands. Mr. Venns sighed and stood up, ruffling her hair before returning to his home. Lily had sat there for quite awhile after that, a mantra of /whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy/ repeating on loop through her mind. For however intelligent she was, she was still only four years old and living in a pleasant, sheltered neighborhood, surrounded by good people. She’d never experienced the hardships of life, nor had she ever experienced death. She loved the birds and their songs; as she sat holding the dead robin, she wished with all her might that it was still alive. And then it was. Lily watched with wide eyes as the bird twitched and then fluttered its wings. It blinked up at her a few times before chirping and flying away.

Everything changed after that. Lily started noticing things more: like how annoyingly bright the sun was, and how wonderful and comforting the shadows and darkness were. She slowly started wearing darker colors, and while her parents exchanged worried looks over her head, they convinced themselves it was just a phase.

In school, she made no friends. The older kids didn’t like how young she was and the younger kids didn’t like how smart she was and the resulting special treatment she received. Instead, she spent recesses and weekends lurking around dark and shadowy alleys and corners and just watching everyone. Her best friend became a skeletal crow that only she could see whom she called Thana. Her parents thought Thana was an imaginary - if not odd and slightly disturbing - friend. They signed her up for counseling sessions with a child psychiatrist once a week until she got the point and stopped talking about Thana. When Lily turned seven, the shadows began whispering things to her, telling her all of the secrets they knew: which were a lot. All shadows were connected by something Lily came to call The Darkness. Anything done or said near a shadow, was dutifully reported back to Lily. This forced the already mature-for-her-age girl to mature even faster, before she eventually learned to tune out most of the secrets. She found that if she was looking for some specific secret or information on a certain person, place, or thing, then she could find it, but everything else could be ignored and remain unknown with enough practice.

As she grew, so did her love of darkness, especially seeing as the shadows were her spies. She loved the night for the bigger and more shadows it brought along. She also learned to control her power over the dead. She spent many a day out in the fields just beyond the suburbs her home lay in, playing around with long dead creatures. The skeletons of mice and birds and even a wolf were her only childhood friends. She always left them to their peace when it came time for her to return home, but they were always waiting for her to return and reanimate them once more. She only returned life twice more after the robin incident. Once, to a garden snake that had gotten clipped by the lawnmower and bled out. That was the day she learned she could speak to snakes, as the little serpent hissed a thank you and slithered off. The second resurrection was actually another person. That was the day she discovered that not only could she give back life, but she could also take it away. One of her classmates had stumbled upon her speaking with a few snakes, some of which were skeletons, and had screamed; Lily had jumped up and spun around, eyes going wide, desperately wishing to stop the other girl wouldn’t tell what she had just come upon. In a blink, the girl was lying glassy-eyed on the ground before her. Lily had stared uncomprehendingly for a few moments, before the pounding footsteps of an approaching adult, no doubt summoned by the screaming, brought her back to the present moment and the problem - the dead classmate - at hand. She pulled on the same instinctive power she used on the skeletons and the bird and that garden snake, and her classmate took a breath again. Lily sighed in relief, whispering a quick goodbye to the skeletal snakes before dismissing them and blinking innocently at the playground monitor that had finally reached them. Lily swore that she had just been watching the snakes when Darcy, the other girl, had come up, screamed, and passed out. Mrs. Peters had been more than willing to believe her, as the Evans prodigy was well known among the staff for being weird sometimes, and when Darcy woke up it was found that she had hit her head on the concrete when she passed out and couldn’t remember the incident at all.

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When Lily was nine years old, she thought she had finally found an answer to her different-ness. She had long since discovered that the oddness extended beyond darkness and death, and that she could make things move without touching them and flowers bloom in winter. Once, she and her sister were out at the playground two streets over - wanting to mix things up instead of going to the playground on their street like they usually did. After about an hour of playing - or Lily playing and Petunia grumpily watching because she was ‘thirteen and much too old for childish things like playgrounds’ - the two girls agreed to go use the swing set. Lily leapt from the swings when she was as high as she could go, and she laughed as she gently floated to the ground and made the flowers dance and wave as she bowed exaggeratedly to them. She had thought it was safe: she and Petunia were the only ones in the park and Petunia was too engrossed in her fashion magazine she’d borrowed from a school friend to notice her sister accomplishing the impossible. When a boy burst out of the bushes exclaiming that she was a witch, she was understandably startled. He introduced himself as Severus Snape and explained about magic.

“So… so the things I can do? They’re magic?” She had asked tentatively, digging the toe of her shoe into the sand of the playground. He’d nodded and proceeded to go one about magic and wizards and witches and the whole magical world. Petunia quickly gave up on arguing with him and instead glared and sulked from her bench.

When they first met, Lily had been ecstatic to finally know someone like her: someone who understood. This boy, too, was dressed in all black, and despite his clear passion about magic and discovering she was a witch, she could tell he was a very somber person. Lily ended up forcing Petunia to stay until sunset while she listened to Severus talk animatedly about magic. However, it slowly began to dawn on her that he wasn’t quite the same.

As he blabbered on about Hogwarts and Quidditch and various spells and fanciful robes, Lily noticed he never said anything about speaking to snakes or raising them dead. So she asked him, feigning curiosity about the possibilities and limits of magic.

“Can you speak to animals?” She asked in a shy, whispering tone. “Can you raise the dead?” The questions had stopped him short for a moment before he spoke very seriously.

“No. One of the founders of Howart’s was said to be able to speak Parseltongue - the language of snakes - but is a rare and feared ability as the man himself is said to have been evil and muggle-hating. They say he even left a monster in the school to attack and kill the Muggleborns, but no one’s ever found proof.” He’d said carefully. “And raising the dead just isn’t done, it’s illegal, even: dark magic. Beyond inferi, which are just animated, rotting corpses, it’s not even possible anyway.”

And Lily had stayed silent, resigned to the fact that even in a world of magic, she was different - impossible - and didn’t belong.

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She decided to try and befriend Severus - if only as a way to learn more about magic - and learned that he had somehow come to the conclusion that she only ever wore dark colors after they met because she didn’t want him to feel weird. He was under the impression that she’d been wearing the black dress the day they met as either a fluke or to prevent grass stains as she played in the park, and since then had only continued because of him. He encouraged her to ‘return to wearing bright colors and patterns’ and ‘wear what you want to wear’ and stop worrying about him. Not wanting to seem weird to her only connection to and source of knowledge about the world she would apparently join when she turned eleven, she returned the the bright, girly clothes she’d worn as a toddler. Her parents were relieved that she’d ‘finally grown out of her phase’ and had been more than delighted to take her clothing shopping.

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When it finally came time for her to attend Hogwarts, her parents were so proud. They exclaimed how they’d always known she was special as she was their miracle. With everything Severus had told her over the last two years and everything she’d read in the books she’d purchased in Diagon Alley, she so badly wanted to go to Slytherin. Everything she’d read and heard had painted it as shadowy and dark and just perfect. But as she sat in the train waving goodbye to her tears-eyed parents and her scowling sister, she realized that she could not go wear she yearned to. Her parents worried about her enough, what with her ‘goth phase’ and the nonchalance about death she’d gained sometime after her how-many-th time out playing with skeletons. (She hadn’t even cried when grandpa died! Just shrugged and said that it was a natural part of the cycle of life and he was happy and at peace now, some of the guests at the funeral service had appraised her with interest over her a true and solemn, if not worrying view on the matter, while others - including her parents - had stared at her with wide eyes full of worry.) She realized that, in order to make them happy, she would have to go anywhere but Slytherin.

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When the hat shouted out Gryffindor after a full seven minutes of arguing with it and carefully hiding memories of necromancy and snake-speak, she eyed the cheering red and gold table with trepidation. It was so blinding and… light. When she saw the common room, she let out a strangled whimper that was luckily taken as homesickness. This was going to be a long seven years.

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At first, she’d expected to get along with Black and Lupin - one was a Black and the other, according to her shadows, was a werewolf - and at least be able to tolerate Potter as he was clearly their friend. This quickly turned out not to be the case. The three were pranksters and bullies and so disgustingly light that it almost made her feel sick being in their presence. She easily passed off her hatred of them as a result of the targeting and bullying of her ‘childhood friend,’ but the truth was their pure naivety and lightness made her want to gag. Thana, who had followed her to Hogwarts, taking up residence in the forbidden forest, made her amusement over the situation quite clear.

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When she was fifteen she finally found a way to get rid of Severus. He had long ago outlived his usefulness, and frankly by then she just found him a pitiful idiot who latched onto the fantasy he created of who she suspected was the first girl his age to speak to him willingly and refused to let go. She knew very well that he had only shouted the slur because he was angry and lashing out and full of hormones and it was an accident and he didn’t mean it. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about the insult, and she didn’t care that he hadn’t meant it. It made, however, a brilliant excuse to stop hanging out with him. No one would care that the Muggleborn Gryffindor stopped hanging out with her weird Slytherin friend because he called her a Mudblood. It was an opportunity she gladly took advantage of.

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When she was seventeen she found Black, Lupin, and Potter of all people practicing a rather dark cutting curse in an abandoned classroom. The curse wasn’t dark enough for the wards to register it and alert the headmaster, but it was still dark enough that light families such as the Potters - and by extension Sirius Black - balked at the mere mention of it. And here these three were happily casting it again and again with excellent accuracy and strength. They’d clearly done this before. She took a moment to admire the warding they’d done on the entrance to the classroom - if she were anyone else (except perhaps Dumbledore) she doubted she would have even noticed there was a classroom there. As it was, they were in a rather abandoned section of the classroom that anyone - save Lily and apparently the Marauders - ever ventured into. After studying their wards, she allowed her curiosity to get the better of her and used her second eyes (which she’d discovered on her fifteenth birthday) to view their souls.

See, wizards had long ago discovered that the more dark or light magic you practiced, the more dark or light your aura became. they had also discovered that people with darker auras tended to have darker souls and be therefore more inclined to darkness, and likewise with the light. What they did not know, however, was that the aura and the soul are the same thing. Aura readers were not looking at an aura like they thought - a colorful haze that outlined a person and gave you some basic of basic vague details about them and what their magical inclination was - but the soul on a metaphysical level. Souls were not originally meant to inhabit shells. They were vast, foggy, shapeless forms, taking up however much space they wanted, but long ago a higher power had tethered them to bodies. Souls yearned to be free, and so expanded as much as they could. They could never leave the body they were tied to until the body died, but they could expand just enough to fill the area around their body, just enough to be seen by people with the gifts and/or training. Those who could read ‘auras’ could get just the faintest knowledge from this ability, as mortals are not meant to see souls as they truly are, as to do so would give a person absolute control over the soul for they would know everything there was to know about it. All of the experiences and memories of your life and any lives before it are stored in your soul. Mortals cannot have the information a soul holds, and so their visions limit them to vague basics given in the form of color. Eventually, souls adapted to their new situation and no longer yearned for freedom. They still leaked out a bit beyond the body, but they had become something else. Most, when they were released upon their body’s death, returned to the great, open void that souls had originally inhabited, but some became so invested in their mortal lives they forgot The Before and remained behind after death, taking the image of the body they held in life and remembering only what they could in the moments before death. 

But as you should have realized by now, Lily Evans was not exactly a normal mortal. When she turned fifteen, she began to slowly see the souls as they are. She saw the details that the ‘aura’ seers could not. Sure, after a single glance at her dorm mates she immediately feigned sickness and spent the entire day in bed with her curtains closed trying to figure out how to turn off or at least limit her power, but the fact of the matter remained: she could see that which she should not have been able to see. When she emerged to check her success, she had found a way to - she hoped and luckily did - turn off the information burst and receive only what she was looking for when she turned it on - much like with her shadows.

When she turned her eyes to the Marauders, she discovered three very much dark cores and a history of spell practice here in this abandoned classroom. When she stepped into the classroom, she found three wands instantly pointed at her, three no doubt very dark curses on the tongues of their holders. She simply raised an eyebrow and hissed [but not in Parseltongue, just hissing like normal humans can do] out a very dark spell that temporarily rendered an opponent’s wand useless by essentially covering it with a film that blocked the wielder from being able to channel magic through it. It was a spell that she knew they would know, as she’d gained the knowledge of it by reading their souls: it seemed Black had come across it in the family library before he’d run away from home and then promptly taught the other two.

As she aged, Lily had started avoiding the Marauders entirely and had found a way to sense like a normal person so she didn’t go insane staying in the Gryffindor dorms. So needless to say she was surprised by the darkness inside of them, just as they were surprised by the darkness and knowledge of the ‘light Gryffindor muggleborn.’ They asked a lot of questions and she asked just as many if not more in return.

It would seem that the long dormant seer blood had activated in Black when he was eight, and what he’d seen had kept him from telling anyone until Potter and Lupin. He’d seen a war. A war which, should he have remained loyal to his family and Potter and Lupin light like theirs, would have been the end of magic. The three of them explained how magic relied on balance, and how, by cutting out and not allowing rituals and ‘dark’ magics, wizarding Britain was slowly killing Magic. Sirius said he’d started putting on an act of rebelling against his parents and their ideologies, and continued by befriending a Potter and getting sorted into Gryffindor. During second year, he’d brought Potter and Lupin into the fold, and they, too, had started darkening. The three went on the explain how they acted as the ‘Perfect Light Gryffindors,’ but in reality they were as dark as they come. Sirius had only run away to further the act, even if it pained him, his parents could never know and it needed to be done. Pettigrew didn’t know, and he never could. Black, Potter, and Lupin only let him hand around because it was convenient for and expected of them. They shared with her many plans they’d made for fun intending to torture and/or kill the rat.

Three weeks later Po- James asked her out. She said yes.

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When they graduated from Hogwarts, the war against Voldemort had begun. Tensions had been high and minor skirmishes common for some time, but a week before the graduation ceremony it was officially war. The four of them (and Pettigrew) joined Dumbledore’s ‘Order of the Phoenix’ as was expected of them, and used the lightest of light spells - no matter how naustiating they found it to do so - to battle the Death Eaters.

James asked Lily to marry him and she accepted. The day after Samhain a year after their marriage, Sirius appeared grim-faced on their doorstep. He and Remus had been getting out the materials for their Samhain ritual - Lily and James not joining them as it would be their first Samhain as a married couple - when Sirius had suddenly gone stiff, his voice raspy and his eyes wild and staring straight ahead. Remus had repeated the prophecy to him when he came back from his trance, just as he now repeated it to the couple before him.

The one who will bring balance  
Is born as seven dies  
To he who’s not what he seems  
And she who’s always told lies

The match to darkness  
The defeater of false light  
The beginning of an age  
This child born of night

After the prophecy was spoken, Lily, James, and Sirius had sat in solemn silence. There was no question of whether or not the prophecy spoke of them. There was no one else it could. Lily brought her hands to rest on her flat stomach, remembering her and her husband’s… activities the previous day, as their friend’s words echoed in her ears.

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At 11:29 on July 31st, Lily gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. He was born with the toxic green eyes he clearly inherited from her, instead of the blue that most babies are born with. Even as the four and Pettigrew celebrated, the Potters exchanged grim looks with Remus and Sirius.

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They named the child Hannah Hawthorne Lycorus Evan James Potter. Dumbledore and his order seemed insistent on calling the boy Harry. They let them, knowing it could end up being a good thing in the end, if the boy’s enemies didn’t actually know his name. So after only one correction, they just started telling everyone that his name was Harry James Potter.

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When Hannah was three months old, Dumbledore came to them with news of a prophecy he believed concerned their ‘Harry.’ At first, when they received his message, they were both quite worried and prepared themselves for a fight. When Dumbledore arrived and recited the prophecy and then informed them of the bad news that a Death Eater had over heard, they realized exactly what kind of man he was. What kind of ‘esteemed professor’ held job interviews in a shady pub, without even putting up wards against at the very least eavesdropping, during war times? And to let the spy run off, instead of Obliviating him or, better yet, taking him into custody - and no, they didn’t buy Dumbledore’s story of the spy having ‘slipped away’ and ‘not been able to catch him.’ He’d defeated Grindelwald and was lauded as the most powerful wizard of their age! Surely he could have done something. If all of that didn’t give away the headmaster’s fraudulence, his ‘prophecy’ definitely did.

The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches  
Born to those who have thrice defied him  
Born as the seventh month dies

And the dark lord will mark him as his equal  
But he will have power the dark lord knows not  
The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches

If they’d learned anything by being close friends with a seer, it was that true prophecies always rhymed. Plus, they’d already heard a prophecy from someone they knew to be a true seer. A prophecy which completely contradicted the one they just heard.

They played the fearful, loyal idiots, not even bothering to point out his ‘mistakes’ that ‘unfortunately’ resulted in Voldemort threatening them and their child. Nor did they bother asking why he hadn’t informed them earlier, since he’d apparently known the ‘prophecy’ for just over six months.

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They allowed Dumbledore to ‘convince’ them to move to the smaller, less protected cottage in Godric’s Hollow and consented to only using the Fidelis as security. They even allowed him to ‘convince’ them to use the sniveling coward Pettigrew (who they diefinitely didn’t know was a Death Eater, obviously, because if they did they would have told somebody. Obviously.) to be their secret keeper while Dumbledore went off telling everyone it was Sirius.

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By the time Samhain arrived a year after they ‘went into hiding,’ they knew they were going to die because of Dumbledore. They didn’t even need a sobbing Sirius and mournful Remus appearing randomly on their doorstep to tell them that. They’d prepared for it, writing letters to various people and filling out journal after journal for their son. They spoke with the goblins and said their goodbyes to their friends. They did not worry for Hannah’s life, for if a prophecy said he would bring balance and match the darkness, then he would. That meant he would have to live to do so. So no, they never worried for his life, even if they did worry for what would happen to him when they passed.

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Voldemort was chosen by magic to fix the balance, and he knew this. That is why he could not let a child who was prophesied to stop him live. He knew there was a very real chance that the prophecy was false. He knew very well that the entire thing could be a trap. But he also knew very well that magic was dying, and even if there was the slightest chance of the prophecy being true, he had to stop it before it could come true.

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James Potter died with a smile on his face, knowing that death was nothing to be afraid of. His wife had stopped fearing death when she was too young to remember ever having feared it in the first place. She told him that death was a natural part of life, and that your soul yearned to be free. She told him that love, if strong enough, could last beyond death, and even once your soul returned home, you could still remember and watch, and sometimes even guide, those still living.

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When Lily Potter née Evans was twenty one years old, a new widow and a mother for what she knew would only be a few more moments, she discovered where her eyes came from. She’d been fighting this war for four years now and had seen the killing curse often enough, but only ever in the heat of battle when she was focused on other things. Now, she stared death in the face without fear, and she smiled as a bolt of light the exact same color as her eyes sent her home.

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A tall figure draped in shadows with eyes the color of the killing curse greeted her, the soul she knew as James beside it. She received the impression of a smile.

/Welcome home, My Daughter./

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any questions after reading that and/or feel like I need to explain some stuff better, just let me know and I’ll address it in the next story. This is just a prequel, meant to give some information and background for the actual story, but I need to know what you’d like me to explain further.
> 
> That whole ramble on souls is actually my thoughts mostly. I had a hard time writing them down, but I think I got the message across.
> 
> Intombi Yokufa is Xhosa for daughter of death.
> 
> I know I maybe made Lily a bit Op, but it was an accident I couldn’t really be bothered to rewrite the whole story to fix. I will endeavor not to make Hannah that OP.
> 
> I do believe that true prophecies should rhyme. Otherwise they suck. No offense meant to anyone, that’s just my personal thought on the matter.
> 
> I made Lily a parselmouth be cause... I felt like it. I justify it by saying side affect of the whole ‘daughter of death thing’ but I don’t really know how that works... just go with it. Maybe I’ll think of something by the next story in the series.
> 
> This is where I put the author’s note I forgot but know I needed to put here. Hopefully I’ll remember it and replace this ‘placeholder’ with the actual note.
> 
> This is just a prologue, I’ll get around to the main story eventually. Probably. I’ll put it on my list, but my depression kinda stops me from doing things unless spur of the moment like this story was.
> 
> Hannah is actually a boy name. I am very aware that is most commonly a girl’s name - I know several Hannah’s - but it is apparently a male name.  
> I discovered this when looking on the Google for a different name for Harry. Personally I hate the name ‘Harry.’ I mean no offense to people named Harry, but it’s just such a boring, common, /plebeian/ name. I will likely end up changing Harry’s name in every story I write.  
> I stumbled upon ‘Hannah’ when looking for something that Harry could be short for, but I decided I really liked Hannah and decided that everyone else could just call him Harry and/or his family would use the fake name of ‘Harry’ to throw people off.
> 
> {Hope is a highway that leads to the future-M}  
> |I always keep my laser towers on the washing machine; it’s the most logical place for them.-M|


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